


Carry On

by 44_2012_14



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44_2012_14/pseuds/44_2012_14
Summary: ON HIATUS - Tobin's been in an accident and has forgotten all about Christen and their blossoming relationship. It gets worse before it gets better.





	1. Carry On

and after all's been said and done

who said it best, were you the one

let's just forget, leave it behind

and carry on

Groggy from a perpetual lack of sleep, Christen swipes her phone off the night stand to cut off Norah Jones urging her to just forget and carry on. Plopping back down on the mattress, face hiding in her pillow, she revels in drowsiness for a blissful couple of seconds before reality smacks her in the face.

The intense little shockwave of realization hits her just as hard today as it has every morning for the past couple of weeks. Life started pelting her with carefully aimed lemons on the first day of February and hasn't relented since. She has no way of protecting herself against such an assault, because she's too tired and too broken to defend herself. She'll take the hits and hopes for a quick recovery from the bone-deep bruises they leave behind.

Sitting up, she drops her face in her hands and takes a few deep breaths, because she refuses to cry anymore so early in the morning. She doesn't want to start off her day with such sadness and hopelessness, even if that's exactly what she's feeling. Sad. Hopeless. Like she's lost the best parts of herself. Because she has and she's pretty sure she's not getting them back.

The phone in her hand buzzes twice, startling her. Without looking, she knows it's her Mom, asking her how she feels today. It's a question she doesn't really know how to answer, because she doesn't really know how she feels. Some days she's numb and feels pretty much nothing, other days she's afraid she'll go crazy from feeling everything all at once. It's a "regular" grieving process or say everyone says, but she really couldn't care less about what everyone says. Her grieving process can be called anything _but_ regular, because Tobin hasn't died. It isn't as simple as a breakup, either, because as far as Christen knows, they were very much together on the last day of January. She has pictures to prove it!

So, no, the love of her life didn't die and she didn't leave. Well, at least not of her own free will, Christen reckons. Tobin just sorta, kinda forgot. About Christen and about their relationship and that's where the grieving kicks in.

On February 1st, a week before officially moving in together, Tobin's head met a slab of asphalt after getting hit by a car running a red light. Lucky to be alive, according to eye witnesses and God, _of course_ Christen is extremely grateful that her girlfriend didn't suffer more extreme and permanent consequences besides breaking ribs and bruising everything else, brain included.

She'll never forget the phone call. She's changed her ringtone since then, because Ed Sheeran will never be able to make her sing along to that particular tune ever again. She remembers standing on the sidewalk of their new home with brushes in one hand and a bucket of olive green wall paint in the other when her phone starts blaring the lyrics to "Perfect". Tobin's ringtone. Dropping the bucket to pick up her phone, she sweetly answers it with a "Hey, you."

Instead of hearing the soothing sound of her girlfriend's voice, Christen's spoken to by a stranger telling her in a no-nonsense intonation that they're calling because she's listed as Tobin Heath's emergency contact and that there's been an accident. The brushes leave her hand to join the paint on the pavement as she feels around her for something to lean on, sort of crashing into the side of her car when her knees start to buckle.

The woman on the other end tells her to come to the hospital right away, but to make sure she gets there safely and to call a taxi, friend or family member to take her there if she's too upset to get there by herself. Christen just nods along to everything the woman says but registers exactly nothing of what's she being told. She's infinitely glad when, after hanging up, she receives a text message from the hospital with the where, the how and the who. She now knows where to go, how to get there the fastest and who to find once she's there.

With trembling hands she punches a button on her phone. When Tobin's voice comes through, telling her to leave a voicemail, Christen realizes her first instinct had been to call the one person able to calm her down when she's drowning in anxiety. Hearing the low and slow timbre of Tobin's voice, _hearing_ her smile around the words, brings her back to a harsh reality. Tobin's in the hospital and Christen needs to get there ASAP.

~

Looking back on it now, she's surprised she'd gotten to the hospital without causing another accident. The brain is a wondrous thing, shifting into automatic pilot the moment things get to be too much. It's ironic to think about how her brain shutting down had been what had gotten her to the hospital safely.

Christen's been having a lot of thoughts lately. Some are just stupid and irrelevant thoughts. Thoughts like whether someone picked up her paint and brushes from the sidewalk. Did she lock the door to the new place before she hurried off to the hospital? How there's a dent in her car on the driver's side and how she doesn't remember how it happened. It's these thoughts that stop her from thinking about the things that _do_ matter.

At night, tired of fighting her feelings all day, she tends to give in to them. She's got a lot of angst going on in those moments. Thinking about the future hurts like hell, because in most of her worst case scenario's Tobin isn't there with her.

She thinks about having to sell the new house and how she's going to have to figure out where to live when it comes to that. Her apartment has already been rented out and she can't afford the mortgage on the new house on her own. Her parents have offered to take her in, but Christen doesn't see how that could work. She loves her parents, she truly does, but she's been on her own for a good few years and can't imagine having to live with Mom and Dad again. It'll be her last resort.

If she's not thinking about her living situation, she's thinking about her loving situation. Just because Tobin doesn't remember her, doesn't mean Christen forgets as well. In her darkest moments she wishes it were that easy, but she feels guilty the moment she thinks it. She won't wish away the memories she has of meeting Tobin and falling head over heels in love with her. She doesn't want to forget about her broad and beautiful smile or her boisterous laughter, feeling an exceptional kind of special when she's the cause of either or both. No matter what happens, no matter how this is going to end, Christen will always honor her relationship with Tobin. If it means having to bow out eventually, well, she's thought about that too. If it helps Tobin, she most definitely will...


	2. The Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. It gets worse before it gets better...

I came here to let you know

the letting go

has taken place

The Letting Go ~ Melissa Etheridge

Christen thinks this is what the aftermath of the apocalypse must look and feel like. She spends her days in a haze and mostly alone now. Like a ghost, she wanders the square feet of the apartment over and over again, trying to find some semblance of peace in the mementos of her life with Tobin.

There's the beer stain on the coffee table and the dent in the refrigerator door. The worn out love seat they snuggle up in during movie nights that they refuse to replace because it holds so many memories. The brand new bed with the antiquated quilt, books on the night stand, clothes on the bedroom floor, Tobin's shampoo in the bathroom. It's all there, but it doesn't feel real. Nothing does.

She's been numb from the moment she's been asked to leave the hospital. Being surrounded by people she doesn't know causes Tobin stress and stress hinders the healing process, or so she's been told. Logically, Christen knows it's a plausible reason to be asked (told) to stop dropping by the hospital every day, but her heart doesn't do logical. It doesn't do reason or plausible excuses. The only thing it _does_ do is shatter into a million pieces the moment Tobin's family begs her to stay away.

Tobin's mom pleads with her to understand their decision to protect Tobin from all the confusion and all the anxiety caused by unknown faces. She gives in despite the overwhelming need to argue. But the situation's bad enough as it is and she doesn't want to add to it. On the condition of getting one last moment alone with Tobin, under the guise of being a good friend and dropping off a few belongings, she agrees to stop visiting.

So now there's a duffel bag by the front door. It's stuffed with faded jeans and worn t-shirts, an envelope filled with pictures hidden in one of the side pockets. Christen's tempted to smuggle clues in between the rolled up shirts just to see if they'll jog Tobin's memory. A tiny spray of perfume on the collar of her favorite hooded sweatshirt or a ticket stub from a memorable date tucked away in the back pocket of a pair of jeans, but in the end she rules it out. It's just wishful thinking, anyway. If meeting eye to eye didn't do the trick, Christen's hard pressed to believe a shoe box souvenir will.

In the morning she'll carry that duffel bag out to her car, effectively cutting Tobin out of her life by returning the remaining pieces of a life they'd always thought they'd spend together. Sleep will not come at easy tonight, if at all.

 _If_ she sleeps, she dreams. Sometimes about the good parts, most times about the bad parts. Her nightmares are filled with memories of not being recognized and the empty, questioning stare in those still so familiar eyes. At night, her mind edits the worst images, thoughts and feelings into something resembling a horror movie and when she wakes, she loses Tobin all over again.

~

Pulling up to the hospital, Tobin's bag on the passenger seat, Christen's a few deep breaths away from an anxiety attack. This giving in to Tobin's family feels a lot like giving up. She's signing her life away, every hope for a future with the woman she loves more than anything or anyone else. Sitting in her car in the hospital parking lot, tears streaming down her cheeks, Christen says goodbye to the life she _thought_ they'd have, the life they were _supposed_ to have. She tries to let go of the fantasies of a picture perfect wedding day, picking out a home together with a yard big enough for a couple of dogs and, a few years down the line, a couple of kids running around.

It's a sobering thought. The ice running through her veins steels her enough to finally get out the car, tears dried and game face on. The sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she'll get to go home and fall apart completely.

She finds Tobin's room with deliberate steps, her heels tapping a steady beat against the murky yellow tile of the hospital hallways. She will not linger. It's just a drop off. She'll be in and out and it'll mark the end of this chapter of her life. In time, she hopes to welcome Tobin back into her life, but for now, Christen knows she needs to let her go so she can heal.

Reaching room 1723, Christen doesn't pause before knocking. Pushing through this is the only way to get this done. Tobin tells her to come in and with a small prayer for strength, Christen takes the first step towards a future without Tobin by her side.

~

Tobin watches her walk in, an uncertain smile on her face. There's recognition there, but no familiarity. Christen has visited before, so Tobin know who she is. Knows Christen's name, thinks she's a friend.

"Hey," Christen greets her, taking in Tobin's pale face, the way her already too thin frame seems to have lost a couple of pounds.

"Hey, Christen", Tobin offers in return, her voice small and tired. Its impact on Christen is anything but small. Her name falling from Tobin's lips feels like someone's taken a sledge hammer to her chest and suddenly she's not so certain this saying goodbye thing will be as swift and practical as she'd sworn to herself it would be.

Christen walks closer but holds up at the foot end of the bed. Any closer and she will be able to take in Tobin's scent. She'll be tempted to pat down flyaway hairs or do something as stupid as lean in for a hug or, even worse, a kiss. It's just best to keep a safe distance, because Christen has never been able to help herself where Tobin's concerned. Always wanting to touch this angel incarnate, just to make sure she's really there and really _hers_. Christen has wondered, often enough, what she's done to deserve this good a woman. Tobin takes care of her always and in every way. Losing that, losing _Tobin_ , is the most devastating loss she will ever suffer.

"I brought you some clothes," Christen tells her, holding up the duffel as if to prove her point before setting it on the ground.

Tobin nods, her eyes never leaving Christen's. The questioning stare is back and Christen doesn't know how to respond to that laser like look. Tobin's eyes are flitting across her features with an intensity Christen's intimately familiar with. It's like she's forcing herself to remember, willing her brain to link together all the scattered pieces of her memories.

Christen crosses her arms over her stomach, trying to protect herself from the force of Tobin's unrelenting gaze. She should probably say something. Move, maybe, to break the spell they both seem to be under, but Christen selfishly revels in being the center of Tobin's attention. If this is the last time they'll be seeing each other for the foreseeable future, she's allowed to be a little bit selfish.

The thought only lasts a couple of seconds more before reality comes crashing down around them. Tobin's face scrunches up in pain, eyes closed while one hand reaches up to grab for her head wound and the other tightly grips her bed sheets.

Seeing her lover in agony breaks Christen's heart. It also tells her she's doing the right thing by walking away. It may be for just a while or it may be for forever, but right now, there's nothing she can do to make Tobin feel better. Judging by the past ten minutes, she can only make things worse.

Gathering her courage, Christen finally moves closer. Tobin's eyes are still closed, but the pain seems to be subsiding. Her hands have returned to a relaxed state, now resting on the blanket covering her thighs. Christen feels an almost irrepressible urge to reach out and touch Tobin's beautiful face just one more time. One touch, gliding the back of her fingers over the flawless skin of a cheekbone or her fingertips trailing that familiar path from her long neck down to her collar bone. It's time to leave.

"Tobin, I'm gonna go. Let you rest" she whispers, voice cracking, prompting Tobin to open her eyes and focus on her once more. Another searching look, as if she's desperately trying to figure out what's happening, but Christen really needs to walk away before she breaks.

She steps back from the bed while taking one more lingering look at the woman who's been her whole world for the blissful years they've been together. One more look before she turns around and sprints out of the room, ignoring the sting in her eyes and the cracks in her heart and the echo of Tobin's voice asking herself what the hell is going on.


	3. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Tobin's ready to go home. Knowing where that is would be extremely helpful...  
> I hope to write longer chapters as the story progresses and they start interacting. We'll get them in the same space eventually!

Tobin's confused. Well, she's been confused since waking up after the accident, but this feels different. This feels like a brain teaser, _knowing_ she knows the answer, but the outcome escapes her every single time she thinks about it. It's driving her mad.

It's been over a week since the girl with the pretty green eyes fled her hospital room. She hasn't heard from Christen since, but Tobin can't stop thinking about her. The way she'd hurried out of her room, overcome with emotion, has left quite an impact on Tobin and it just won't let her be.

She's asked her mom about Christen, but the answer doesn't fit. She's a friend, her mom says. A good friend. Someone important to Tobin, but that's all the information her mom is willing to share. Tobin knows there's more. She _feels_ it with every fiber of her being, but backs off when Cindy changes the subject to the progress she's making physically. The subject will be revisited soon and mother Heath knows it, already dreading that moment. Her daughter isn't one to let the important things go.

The moment she's alone in her room, Tobin reaches for the drawer of her bedside table. Inside is the envelope with pictures Christen brought her and sifting through them has been her favorite pastime since finding them in her duffel bag.

The pictures don't tell her much about anything. She's posing in a couple of them, in others she's caught unawares, but most of them are pretty pictures of beaches and oceans, forests and mountains and Tobin knows she's taken these herself just by looking at them. The scenes feel familiar, but she had no memories to back those thoughts up. On the one hand she wants to pin them to the wall above her bed, on the other she wants to keep them for herself, because they feel important and intimate. With the utmost care, she tucks them back into the envelope after each viewing session, trying to figure out why Christen wanted her to have these in the first place and how the beautiful girl fits into all of it.

In an hour from now Tobin will know what the immediate future holds for her. It's been a month and a half since the accident. Her bruises disappeared weeks ago and her broken ribs are mostly healed. The only thing stopping the doctors from discharging her is the minor detail of her missing memories, a detail Tobin doesn't feel should stop her from going home. So what if she doesn't remember a couple of faces and the names attached to them. It's not like she's forgotten how to cook or clean or take care of herself in general. Unfortunately, Tobin's the only one _not_ concerned about leaving the safety of the hospital. Over six weeks of staring at the same walls and out of the same window and its incredibly lacking view. Heck, the only interesting things she's seen these past weeks are hidden away in the drawer of her bed side table and the woman bringing them with her. Tobin can't wait to get out of this godforsaken place and find out why it is that she can't stop thinking about Christen.

~

Going back to work has proven more difficult than Christen thought it would be. She needs the distraction, true, but can she really call it that when the only thing that changes is _where_ she thinks about how her life's in shambles and how she has no clue how to pick up the pieces? She certainly has no business telling other people how to handle their problems, no matter the diploma's hanging on the walls in her office. Her degrees in psychology are sure doing her fat lot of good right now, aren't they? The irony does not escape her.

The blonde currently occupying the seat across from her is a regular. Thankfully, she's also a talker, leaving Christen with the one task of humming and nodding in appropriate intervals. Later on, she'll feel very unprofessional for spacing out, but listening to someone going on and on about abandonment issues because her parents wouldn't let her get a dog seems trivial in light of her own situation.

_'Try being left behind by the love of your life because she can't remember a thing about you or your relationship and then get back to me about abandonment issues,_ ' Christen scoffs silently, instantly feeling guilty. With a mental kick in the behind, she tries to shake it off. Blondie's still rambling and Christen thinks it might be time to take some notes, already knowing she's missed the most important parts.

When the day ends, finally, she dashes out of the office, avoiding the well-meaning, sympathetic conversations with her co-workers. She'll scream if she hears one more person tell her how sorry they are and how they can't _imagine_ being forgotten by their partner/spouse/significant other. Christen agrees. They can't. It's the loneliest feeling ever and every conversation about it feels like pouring salt in a gaping, bleeding wound and she's done talking about it.

She's just about to start her car when her phone starts ringing.

[Mother Heath calling], the display tells her. Great. And just when she'd thought her day couldn't get any worse.

~

Back at the hospital, Tobin's recovering from the talk with her doctors. Well, to be honest, her doctors weren't really the problem. The real problem is her mother. Her wonderful, sweet and loving, caring, overbearing mother. The one person who doesn't trust Tobin to be able to take care of herself once she leaves the hospital, even though both her neurologist _and_ the attending physician assure her she'll be fine on her own. Tobin's sound of mind, they say. At least she was _before_ the conversation she's just had and her mom interrupting her just about every other sentence.

Tobin's mad. She doesn't understand her mother's dogged determination, despite what the doctors are telling them. Cindy Heath wants Tobin to come and stay with her for the time being. Not just because she's worried, although that's a big part of it. There's also the minor concern of Tobin not _having_ a home to go to and Cindy's not entirely sure how to slide that slice of information into a conversation just yet.

She'll need to talk to Christen first...


	4. A Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step closer in getting them together. Another short filler chapter before the meet. From here on out, the chapters will be longer.

Chapter 4

Guess I did what I did believing

That love is a dangerous thing

Oh but that couldn't hurt anymore than never knowing

a Home - Dixie Chicks

"Let me get this straight," Christen fumes, though her voice is controlled. A little frosty, maybe.

"Weeks ago you begged me to walk away from Tobin and now you're begging me to move in with her?" she all but hisses.

It's totally not her style, but she's about to absolutely lose her shit in the middle of a restaurant during rush hour.  
She should've never called back. Should've never agreed to meet Cindy Heath for lunch to "discuss Tobin's progress". She feels lured and reeled in by the woman across from her and now, a mere ten minutes into this meeting, she feels the sharp sting of an unexpected hook.

How can they possibly ask this of her? Enticing her with a future she's trying to let go of. Asking her to go ahead with moving into the new house together, as friends. It's cruel and it's selfish and Christen wants to say 'Hell no!', but also 'Hell, yes!', because how can she not?

She feels like she's going to puke all over the fancy table cloth. It's a good thing she hasn't ordered anything yet, lunging for the tall glass of ice water to help prevent coughing up the granola she had for breakfast. Gulping down bile as well as a few choice words, Christen tries to regain her mental balance. She'd love to throw down right here, right now, but her Mom and Dad taught her better than that. Also, Tobin probably frowns upon people trying to throttle her mother at an upscale restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. That would make living together even more awkward and, oh God, is she actually considering this now?

Cindy squirms in her seat, eyes on her fidgeting hands. She's not familiar with this side of the soft-spoken woman Tobin introduced to them years ago. Christen's never been anything other than sweet and polite in their company, so Cindy knows she’s witnessing a rare phenomenon. Because Christen’s angry. Absolutely furious. Her eyes are the color of a raging storm at sea, dark green and grey, focused solely on the audacious woman daring to ask her to make such an impossible decision.

There are countless reasons to say no. To stick Mrs. Heath with the bill of this train wreck and just walk out and never look back. But it’s Tobin. And she would never turn her back on Tobin. Christen has a feeling it’s for exactly this reason she’s in this predicament. Everyone knows she’d never say no, no matter how bad of an idea it truly is. It will meaning lying to Tobin, even if it's by omission and for just that reason alone, Christen should decline. Karma is a thing and Christen believes in it wholeheartedly. If she does this, it’ll surely come back to bite her in a place where it’ll hurt the most and it’ll linger. And still she’s considering it. Because of Tobin.

According to Cindy, Tobin refuses to move in with her parents after leaving the hospital, firmly stating she’s perfectly able to take care of herself. Tobin wants to go home, but no one in her family has found the words, nor the courage, to tell Tobin that she doesn’t really have a home. At least, not one she remembers.

Out of morbid curiosity, Christen asks for the game plan, should they go ahead with this crazy idea. In the end, it all sounds ridiculously easy. All they really have to do is to convince Tobin that moving in with Christen was the plan all along, which isn’t a complete lie. Christen likes that part the best. The part she likes the least is the hope sparking in her chest. Hope that proximity may cause Tobin to remember her or, and this is where the lines start to blur, that Tobin will fall in love with her all over again. She’s selfish enough, or maybe foolish enough to give it a go, better judgment be damned. Later that afternoon, roaming the apartment, with plans made and script written, she cries. She curses Cindy and her power of persuasion and her own fragile heart for wanting things she’s not sure she can have, but she refuses to give those things up without a fight, even it’s a dirty one.

~

Life’s a roller coaster after that. As a psychologist she should be able to come up with a description befitting her diplomas, but sometimes it just is what it is. She finishes painting the house and could probably rinse her brushes and rollers in the buckets of tears she cries. She’s caught between scared and hopeful, both feelings fighting for the top spot pretty consistently from the moment she wakes up until she goes to sleep and sometimes after.

In two days, Tobin will be discharged, so it’s T minus 48 hours and Christen hasn’t seen her nor spoken to her since that rather dramatic exit from the hospital. According to Cindy it didn’t take much to convince Tobin to share an address with her “good friend Christen”. It doesn’t take a lot to convince Christen that Tobin would’ve agreed to live pretty much anywhere but with her parents, either, so there’s that. As sobering a thought as it is, it doesn’t do anything to stop the butterflies from lifting off in her stomach. In two days she’ll be sharing space with Tobin again and just thinking about it terrifies her as much as it exhilarates her.

She knows her parents are worried. Her sisters call her stupid and crazy respectively and the Press Pack™ as a whole believes that inevitable heartbreak will be the certain outcome, but Christen doesn’t care. Well, she cares, but not enough to let them talk her out of living with Tobin even though she knows it’s going to one of the biggest challenges she’s ever had to face and she owes it to herself to give it a go. The worst thing that can happen is that it won’t work out and that she’ll lose Tobin all over again. She’s done it before. Christen’s sure it won’t hurt as much the second time around.

The new place is set up with help of friends and family (mostly Tobin’s). Deciding where to put the couch or where to hang the tv feels more daunting than it should. Christen questions every decision she makes, wondering what her roomie-to-be wants. She could just call and ask, but that means actually talking to Tobin and Christen is kind of actively avoiding that. She’s afraid she’ll either confess as soon as she hears the other woman’s voice or that she’ll burst into tears because she misses her like crazy and the prospect of living with Tobin but not living with Tobin tears the scabs right off her already wounded heart.

Caught between two evils, she chooses the path of least resistance and doesn’t choose at all. Instead she focuses on making two separate beds and filling two separate closets. She’ll let Tobin decorate her own bedroom, not knowing what she does and doesn’t remember and not wanting to screw up. It hurts, but the sting of it keeps her focused. She has a little less than two days left to get her head into the game. She can do this.

Right?


	5. We've Only Just Begun (and already Christen's screwing up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 of living together.

Chapter 5

There's bound to be rough waters  
And I know I'll take some falls  
But with the good Lord as my captain  
I can make it through them all

The River - Garth Brooks

T minus ten minutes (give or take…)

Christen’s been running around the house all morning, trying to perfect perfection. There’s a vase filled with wild flowers on the coffee table. They're Tobin’s favorite. The smell of freshly baked apple pie permeates the house, because Christen read somewhere that most people associate the smell with home and it makes them feel welcome. It doesn’t hurt that Tobin happens to _love_ apple pie, so it’s a win-win situation.

Not knowing what else to do to curb her restlessness, Christen keeps fluffing pillows and wiping nonexistent dust from spotless surfaces. As if Tobin would notice any of it, she thinks, rolling her eyes. Tobin has been known to clean house with just the hem of her t-shirt or the sleeve of her hoodie _while_ wearing said articles of clothing. It makes her wonder how many of those maddening habits remain and how it’s possible she misses them so much. They used to drive her crazy, fueling an argument or two (or ten) about doing things the “adult way”, leading Tobin into a wholly inappropriate series of adult jokes about housekeeping and flat surfaces. Man, she _really_ misses those moments.

A knock on the front door saves her from an undoubtedly painful and never-ending trip down memory lane, but now she feels like she’s about to dive off a cliff into unknown waters. Taking a fortifying breath, Christen heads for the door, jumping off that cliff. To sink or swim are her only two options.

~

Looking back on her day, Christen feels proud of herself for being strong enough to lead Tobin through the house without breaking down every time Tobin points out a certain feature of the house she likes. Those features being the same things they loved about the house on their first viewing of the property. Tobin falls in love with the same spare bedroom all over again, waxing lyrical about the huge windows and its natural light and how it’ll be a perfect studio for painting.

The upstairs bathroom draws the same awed reaction it did the first time. Thinking about a wide-eyed Tobin taking in the huge bath and the state of the art shower makes Christen smile even hours after the fact. Tobin’s childlike wonder is still very much a part of her personality and Christen will make sure to thank Tobin’s God for that blessed discovery before she goes to sleep tonight.

One of the trickiest parts of today has been showing Tobin a bedroom all her own. It’s a near empty room with olive green walls and just a simple single bed. It’s waiting to be filled by Tobin and her belongings. Christen’s room is on the other side of the hallway, a space twice as large with the comfiest king sized bed and all the other furnishings they picked out together, but that door stays closed during their little tour. Christen is not yet prepared for having images - _memories_ \- of Tobin in that room.

Despite the confrontational bits of today, the trickiest parts have not been the tour or the continuous reminders of the life they don’t get to live together. Yes, all of that hurts, but Tobin’s alive and they’re together even if they’re not _together_ and Christen’s thankful for the crumbs life’s feeding her even though she’s hungry for so much more.

No, the hardest part is not getting to touch Tobin the way she wants to. The way she’s _used_ to. She finds herself reaching out in more than one instance, because of a certain look or a certain smile, drawing traitorous hands back just in time. Touching Tobin comes as naturally as it always has and the effort it takes to not fuck up is of herculean proportions.

Sinking back into the couch she focuses on the familiar footfalls making their way across the second floor. Christen tracks Tobin’s steps from room to room until she hears the shower start. The few minutes alone make it a little easier to breathe and center herself. She needs to get a grip on her feelings and, more importantly, on her wandering hands if she wants this to work. She falls asleep where she sits, comforted in the knowledge that the woman she loves is home and, for now, that’s all that matters.

When Tobin trudges down the stairs fifteen minutes later, Christen’s out like a light. Tobin can’t help but feel the pull towards the sleeping woman. Sitting herself down on the coffee table right in front of Christen, she carefully studies the slumbering form of her new roommate, knowing with absolute certainty that there is more to their story than everyone’s letting on. Tobin’s pretty sure she knows exactly how that story goes if Christen’s behavior today is anything to go by. There’s an undeniable intensity in the way she looks at Tobin and her irises change color depending on the emotions she tries to hide. She’s borne witness to quite a spectrum of feelings flashing through those pretty green eyes, confirming what Tobin’s known since Christen’s visit at the hospital. They’re close. _Very_ close. It’s not just the open book sleeping two feet away from her making her sure of it, but also the almost irrepressible desire to cuddle up this beautiful woman and knowing it’ll feel like coming home.

With a resonating sigh Tobin resigns herself to the fact that the getting to know each other (again?) will have to wait for tomorrow. One last look, another wistful sigh and she’s off to bed. She already can’t wait to meet Christen in the morning.

~

Christen’s sinking. Like a millstone. She’s tried swimming, had to downgrade to doggy paddling and is now officially treading water as if her life depends on it.

Their first morning together after Tobin moves in, Christen’s already forgetting all the don’ts of this operation. Padding into the kitchen, she finds Tobin’s familiar figure at the stove, expertly flipping pan cakes in an iron skillet. It’s such a familiar sight that Christen’s body moves on autopilot, moving around the kitchen island to plaster herself against Tobin’s back, arms circling around a narrow waist as if they have any right to rest there.

The moment Tobin stiffens, Christen’s brain finally computes her body’s betrayal. Burning hot with embarrassment, Christen practically vaults away from the familiar warmth she’s missed so much, apologizing profusely for overstepping any and all boundaries set for _just_ roommates.

Tobin’s utterly charmed by Christen’s rambling and if her own temperature has risen a few degrees from being held by this utterly charming woman, she’s not ashamed to admit it. There are few things in Tobin’s life that have ever felt that kind of right, adding another tick in the left column of her mental checklist of “Are we or aren’t we?”

Christen’s still hop-step-skipping around the kitchen, trying to come up with an excuse so she can hurry away from the obviously amused woman trying to make eye contact with her.

“It’s okay, Christen,” Tobin chuckles, “I didn’t mind.”

“I’m _so_ sorry for assaulting you like that,” Christen squeaks, dropping her face into her hands, making Tobin laugh a little harder.

“I wouldn’t call a hug from a beautiful woman assault, per se, even if it was kind of unexpected,” Tobin continues to tease, causing another blush to rise on Christen’s cheeks.

“Still sorry, though. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I may have an idea,” Tobin confesses, finally finding Christen’s eyes focused on her own.

“How about a bit of meaningful conversation with your blueberry pancakes?”

It won’t be until much later when it occurs to Christen that Tobin knew to make her favorite pan cakes without having to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on another story, as well, so this one might take a bit longer to finish. The new story is Christmas themed and I hope to post it during the holiday season. We'll see...


	6. I Just Might Cry Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Talk

I've been praying, asking God for help  
But lately, it feels like I've been talking to myself  
I've been waiting for life to get better  
And I need to cry but I'm afraid to cry  
'Cause I just might cry forever

House of Cards – Caitlyn Smith

~Chapter Six~

There’s a certain kind of tension between them now. The way Tobin suggested to have a talk set something off in Christen and it’s making her anxious. She’s expecting a bomb to drop any moment now, because Tobin’s watching her like a hawk while mindlessly chewing through her stack of pancakes. It takes the yumminess right out of breakfast for Christen. She plays around with the blueberries on her plate, actively avoiding eye contact with the woman across from her until she can’t stand it anymore.

“Just spit it out, Tobin,” Christen implores, finding Tobin’s widened eyes with her own.

“My pancakes?” Tobin asks in fake surprise.

Christen rolls her eyes at her, knowing all about Tobin’s time-buying schemes.

“No, funny girl. Spit out whatever it is that’s so clearly occupying your frantic mind.”

It’s best to just get it over with. Tobin knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier finding a good starting spot. Her mind’s spinning with topics she’d like to address, but she doesn’t want to hurt Christen by bringing up things that’ll hurt her and – Tobin thinks – someone completely forgetting about your existence seems like a thing that’ll hurt a person. Especially _this_ person with her kind eyes and her even kinder heart.

Looking at that person looking back at her with fear and trepidation written all over her beautiful face, Tobin decides to take the plunge and end Christen’s apparent agony.

“I’d like for you to tell me who I am to you”, she pushes out on an exhale with her eyes fixed on the near empty plate in front of her.

“Everyone keeps telling me we’re friends and we probably were or are or whatever, but there’s more to you and me than that and I’d like for you to tell me about it.”

Both stop breathing for a few seconds when Tobin’s finished talking. Tobin in anticipation of Christen’s reaction and Christen in shocked confusion, because _this_ is _not_ what she’d been expecting to come out of the other woman’s mouth. She figured the topic of _them_ to be the ultimate taboo and she figured it’d be the hardest thing about living together, but here’s Tobin bringing it up at the breakfast table on day numero uno.

Slumping back into her seat, Christen searches her big brain for the right response. If there ever was a question she knows the answer to it’s this one, but a part of her is afraid she’s misunderstanding what Tobin’s asking of her. Before jumping into the details of what is – to Christen, at least – their Great American Love Story, she needs a little clarification first.

“What makes you think that there’s more to us than friendship?”

With a half shrug Tobin looks up from her half eaten pancakes.

“The way you look at me,” she confesses, uncertain if she should continue but powering through nonetheless.

“But also the way I look at you, even if I don’t remember you. I _feel_ things when I’m around you that I can’t explain but I’m not afraid of them either.”

Her voice cracks, forcing her to pause and clear her throat, but she refuses to look away from Christen who’s staring at her through wet lashes.

Tobin is seriously starting to doubt her theory when Christen lets the silence drag on between them.

“Am I wrong?”

The minute shake of a dark head of hair tells Tobin she’s not wrong, even though a real response still hasn’t found its way to Christen’s lips.

“Is this not something you’re ready to talk about?” Tobin questions next, offering an easy way out.

A way out is the last thing Christen wants. What she wants – or _needs_ , more specifically – is a minute more to round up the chaos in her head. Hope is coursing through her system in such high doses that it drowns out anything else except relief and gratitude. She’s shaken to the core by Tobin’s words and what they might mean for their immediate future. To find out, she’d probably best start talking even if she’s not yet sure what to say.

“You’re not wrong”, Christen finally confirms Tobin’s suspicions.

Letting out a shaky breath, she tries to gather her thoughts before continuing.

“We’re more than friends. When you had your accident, they called me first because I’m your emergency contact. By that point in time we’d been together for almost three years.”

It’s getting harder to speak because too many emotions are threatening to overwhelm her and Tobin’s already halfway out of her seat to offer comfort but Christen holds up her hand to stop her from doing so. She’ll break in two if Tobin so much as touches her right now.

With tear filled eyes Tobin obeys and sits back down in her chair. Her heart aches for the devastated woman breaking down in front of her and she’s never felt as powerless as she does right now. There’s nothing she can do, except to hear Christen out and be satisfied with what her heartbroken companion is willing to share with her.

Between short crying spells and forcing down the glasses of water Tobin offers to get her, Christen tries to summarize their relationship from their meet-cute to buying a house together, leaving them both emotionally drained. They’re still seated at their respective sides of the table, but Tobin’s practically vibrating with the need to touch the girl who’s not just her friend, but her _girlfriend_ as well. From the moment that day in the hospital, Tobin’s felt the crushing need to wrap her arms around this beautiful creature’s shoulders to try and protect her from everything bad in the world. Now that she knows she’s one of the things that’s causing Christen so much pain, that need only grows by bounds and leaps.

Rising from her chair, Tobin carefully makes her way around the breakfast bar. She silently sinks down to her knees next to Christen but doesn’t move another muscle after that, not sure if her proximity is appreciated.

It is, apparently, because Christen’s up out of her chair in a flash, tugging Tobin back onto her feet while she goes and just about throws herself at the unsuspecting woman. Heaving mournful sobs into Tobin’s neck, Christen wraps one arm around familiar broad shoulders while the other finds its way around a trim waist and proceeds to absolutely lose her shit. Weeks of uncertainty, of pain and loss and not knowing whether she’d ever get to hold her love like this again finally find a way out of her system. She’s falling apart and the only person able to put her back together is currently holding onto her just as tightly, just as _desperately_ , even if she doesn’t remember the way they used to be. Tobin’s acting on instinct, knowing exactly how to hold her and which words to whisper into Christen’s hair to calm her down but not knowing how or why she knows these things. Closing her eyes, she murmurs a prayer, thanking God for another chance with this precious angel, for continuing to put Christen in her path. It’s a sign – Tobin’s sure of it – and she will not squander what God has placed right in front of her.

They end up on the floor when exhaustion takes over and Tobin loses the ability to hold Christen’s weight as well as her own. Tobin’s leaning against the shelves of the breakfast counter with Christen resting against her side, all cried out and practically asleep. While both are reluctant to move, they probably should anyway. Tobin’s lower limbs could use a bit of blood flowing through them and Christen should really drink some water to make up for the tears she’s shed.

“Are you okay?” Tobin mumbles into the dark curls tickling her chin.

The slight movement of said curls tells her yes albeit rather unconvincing. Tobin has exactly zero reasons to let go of the woman in her arms but she also knows there are plenty of surfaces around the house way more comfortable than their kitchen floor.

“We should get up. I can’t feel my butt,” she jokes, trying to rouse the weight against her shoulder. A soft chuckle comes from somewhere beneath her chin, telling of a successful attempt to ease them into a less serious state of being.

“That’s ‘cause you have a boney behind,” Christen rasps, still half asleep but moving away from the comfort of her literal body pillow.

“Hey!” Tobin pouts, “There’s no needs to throw around insults, Ms. Press. My behind is perfectly proportioned, thank you very much!”

“Is it ever,” Christen concedes while standing up and stretching out before heading for the bathroom, leaving a blushing Tobin in her wake. She doesn’t know what’ll come next. Has no idea what her confession means for them, but Christen feels relieved now that the truth is out there. She no longer has to censor herself around Tobin, not in words nor in actions. She knows Tobin won’t fall magically back in love with her, that losing what they had is still is an option, but it’s no longer her _only_ option. That’s a hundred percent more than she had before and it’ll do for now.

~

When they find themselves downstairs again an hour later, showered and dressed for the day, things are a little bit awkward. Christen’s embarrassed by breaking down in front of Tobin while the latter senses exactly that and doesn’t know how to broach the subject without making it worse. They still have a lot to discuss, but it doesn’t all have to happen in one day. It isn’t even noon yet and already they both feel stripped completely bare. Tomorrow’s another day and they’ll have plenty of opportunities to figure out where to go from here while living together.

It’s Saturday and they have nowhere to be, apparently, because Christen’s nursing her third cup of coffee while poring over the morning paper. Every section seems to be of great interest, but Tobin suspects a bit of foul play. To her it definitely looks like Christen’s hiding behind the newsprint with the way she’s conveniently holding it up with both hands. It amuses Tobin to no end. She can only imagine how much fun it’ll be to tease an easy blush onto those perfectly chiseled cheek bones and into the tips of those cute little ears and vows to herself to make it her mission to make that happen as often as possible.

In the meantime, Christen’s burning up behind her newspaper. She’s _very_ aware she’s a certain someone’s center of attention and while she has no idea what’s going through her housemate’s mind, she _does_ know how that mind works. It’s cooking something up and it involves Christen beyond a shadow of a doubt. She already can’t wait.

Now that she’s read every letter in the paper before her – obituaries and adverts included – and now that she’s reached her absolute limit on caffeine intake, she is officially out of reasons to keep ignoring the cutie pie trying to catch her attention with the occasional loud sigh and/or playful tug at the corner of her newspaper. It’s very Tobin of her and Christen’s heart beats just that little bit faster with the discovery of yet _another_ thing that hasn’t changed in the amnesiac’s behavior.

Folding the paper in half, safety blanket gone, Christen’s immediately treated to a humongous grin, Tobin seemingly pleased with regaining her attention. They simply sit there and smile at each other, trying to figure out whether to return to their last conversation or start a new one altogether. A few moments of silence too many force Christen into making that decision for the both of them.

“Any plans for the day?”

“Not really,” Tobin shrugs, “I should go shopping, probably. Wanna come with?”

While her phrasing appears casual, her intonation’s anything _but_ and Christen’s heart grows another size knowing Tobin wants to spend the day with her. When she nods in agreement, Tobin’s grin returns and a hint of satisfaction colors those dark brown irises and it has Christen blushing as if she’s about to go on a first date with this goofball all over again.

Needing to flee the scene, she and her pink ears and rose colored cheeks hurry for the kitchen door, throwing a “Meet you by the front door in ten?” over her shoulder while she exits.

Tobin doesn’t bother answering her, acknowledging Christen’s suggestion for the escape it really is and mentally pats herself on the back for making good on her vow already. This is going to be so much fun!


	7. Please Remember

_It’s Saturday and they have nowhere to be, apparently, because Christen’s nursing her third cup of coffee while poring over the morning paper. Every section seems to be of great interest, but Tobin suspects a bit of foul play. To her it definitely looks like Christen’s hiding behind the newsprint with the way she’s conveniently holding it up with both hands. It amuses Tobin to no end. She can only imagine how much fun it’ll be to tease an easy blush onto those perfectly chiseled cheek bones and into the tips of those cute little ears and vows to herself to make it her mission to make that happen as often as possible._

_In the meantime, Christen’s burning up behind her newspaper. She’s very aware she’s a certain someone’s center of attention and while she has no idea what’s going through her housemate’s mind, she does know how that mind works. It’s cooking something up and it involves Christen beyond a shadow of a doubt. She already can’t wait._

_Now that she’s read every letter in the paper before her – obituaries and adverts included – and now that she’s reached her absolute limit on caffeine intake, she is officially out of reasons to keep ignoring the cutie pie trying to catch her attention with the occasional loud sigh and/or playful tug at the corner of her newspaper. It’s very Tobin of her and Christen’s heart beats just that little bit faster with the discovery of yet another thing that hasn’t changed in the amnesiac’s behavior._

_Folding the paper in half, safety blanket gone, Christen’s immediately treated to a humongous grin, Tobin seemingly pleased with regaining her attention. They simply sit there and smile at each other, trying to figure out whether to return to their last conversation or start a new one altogether. A few moments of silence too many force Christen into making that decision for the both of them._

_“Any plans for the day?”_

_“Not really,” Tobin shrugs, “I should go shopping, probably. Wanna come with?”_

_While her phrasing appears casual, her intonation’s anything but and Christen’s heart grows another size knowing Tobin wants to spend the day with her. When she nods in agreement, Tobin’s grin returns and a hint of satisfaction colors those dark brown irises and it has Christen blushing as if she’s about to go on a first date with this goofball all over again._

_Needing to flee the scene, she and her pink ears and rose colored cheeks hurry for the kitchen door, throwing a “Meet you by the front door in ten?” over her shoulder while she exits._

_Tobin doesn’t bother answering her, acknowledging Christen’s suggestion for the escape it really is and mentally pats herself on the back for making good on her vow already. This is going to be so much fun!_

**Chapter 7**

Turns out it's anything but fun.

The shopping trip proves to be more trying than either participant thought possible. While Tobin acts like she hasn’t a care in the world, Christen’s starting to see all the differences between _this_ Tobin and _her_ Tobin and it’s starting to stress her out.

Christen still sees a lot of the “before”, but she no longer feels part of it. When Tobin eagerly suggests stopping into a toy store, Christen puts up a fight – playfully, as she always does – but her forgetful girlfriend completely misreads the situation, thinking she’s committing a cardinal sin. It ends in apologies from either side, even though Tobin has nothing to be sorry for.

Miscommunication seems to be the word of the day, however. It doesn’t stop with the toy store incident. Tobin doesn’t remember her coffee order when Christen tells her to just get her their usual. Tobin doesn’t join her in embarrassed laughter when they pass the swanky clothing store they got banned from because of “changing room shenanigans”. They used to have a pattern – a rhythm – but Christen’s the only one who remembers. It hurts and it shows.

Tobin’s fallen quiet since their awkward moment in the coffee shop, not entirely oblivious to her shopping buddy’s mood swing. There's a big difference between knowing what's wrong and knowing what to do about it, especially in a situation like theirs, so Tobin stops talking altogether, afraid of making it worse for the woman walking beside her who's trying - and failing - to hide her pain.

Tobin feels like an imposter. A fraud. She's obviously not meeting certain expectations and while she can tell Christen's trying to hide it, the other woman's slumped shoulders and downturned eyes aren't fooling anyone. They should've known it wouldn't be as easy as having one conversation and continuing on with their lives as if they know each other. It's overwhelmingly clear they don't.

Christen's thoughts are following a similar path. This morning - with hope and relief coursing through her veins - it'd been easy to forget about the fact that she has no idea of what makes Tobin tick. She's never met this version of her girlfriend, the one who's years younger and whose version of reality doesn't include their relationship yet. She knows _of_ her, of course, through the stories Tobin's told over the years, but all those fragments fail to paint a complete picture of the complex woman she's sharing a house with now. It's a troubling thought because she's basically living with a stranger and how can that ever be a good thing?

With no words exchanged they find their way back to the parking lot, both eager to get home and put some distance between them. Christen finds her way behind the wheel of her Prius while Tobin plops into the passenger seat. With one trembling hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, Christen bites her lip to stop herself from either starting a conversation she isn't ready for or - even worse - bursting into tears from feeling so dejected.

They share a silent ride home with Tobin practically fleeing the awkwardness by running up the stairs and finding refuge in her room. Christen waits until she hears the click of a door closing before trekking up the steps and heading for her room as well hoping the weirdness between them can be chalked up to growing pains or whatever the equivalent is in their particular case. She refuses to think about the alternative.

~

Christen's on the bed flipping through a photo album when there's a knock on her door about an hour later. Granted permission to enter, a hesitant Tobin carefully steps over the threshold, leaving the door open behind her on purpose.

Seeing the album in Christen's lap, Tobin can't help but move closer, curious about the pictures glued to its pages. She's reminded of the stack of photo's Christen tucked into her duffel a few weeks ago and maybe this is what they should've started with.

"May I?"

Christen watches her with guarded eyes, apprehension delaying her answer.

Tobin understands. It'll just be another reminder of all the things Tobin doesn't remember about them and the chances of Christen getting hurt - again and even more so - are very high.

"I know it's a lot to ask for but maybe you can tell me about us? About how we met and the years we've spent together? I guess what I'm asking is, will you share our story with me?"

Unsurprisingly, Christen feels the familiar sting of tears rushing through their ducts, touched by Tobin's sincerity and her willingness to keep trying to figure things out. With a quick nod, she scoots off the bed, tucking the photo album under her arm. She'll tell Tobin all the stories she longs to hear but not in this room and certainly not in this bed. She may be a fool, but she's not a masochist.

Motioning for Tobin to follow her, Christen moves towards the open door and passes through it without looking back, missing the way Tobin glances back at the rumpled comforter and wrinkled sheets and suddenly grimaces in pain, grabbing for her head the same way she did back at the hospital. It only lasts a few seconds, leaving behind one hell of a headache, but Tobin's starting to think these episodes deserve more attention than she's been giving them up until now.

When she gets downstairs, she finds Christen in one of the lounge chairs. She can't tell for certain, but Tobin thinks she feels a bit of disappointment rush through her system because of it. If there's one thing she's absolutely sure of it's that she likes having Christen close by. This seating arrangement means they'll be across from each other and something feels off about that, but she doesn't dare propose to move to the couch together. That would definitely make things weirder than they already are, so she eases down onto the couch by herself, the closest she can get to the incredibly beautiful ball of anxiety waiting for her to take a seat. The moment she feels her butt touch the cushion, Christen starts talking, faraway look in her already glistening green eyes, reliving the words about to come out of her mouth.

~

They meet at a junior league soccer pitch in the middle of a cloud-burst. With kids and parents rushing around them trying to find solace from the rain, Tobin and Christen can't seem to find the purpose to do the same despite the water already soaking through shirts and shorts.

It's all very cliché and Tobin will never live down the teasing she'll surely have to endure from both her best friends when she tells them about it later on, but she feels struck by lightning when she crashes into the lean body stopping her forward movement. She looks up. That's it. That's the story. Because the body has a face and a voice and Tobin is instantly in love with all three, unable to form so much as an apology for potentially harming the celestial being she bumped into. Speechless.

This, of course, is not how Christen tells the story. She's heard Tobin tell it exactly like this a few dozen times, but it's not _Christen's_ story and _that's_ what Tobin's asking for. It seems too hard at first, to dig so deeply into what she thinks is lost, but once she starts talking, Christen's unable to stop.

Between lots of laughter and a couple of tears she tells the story from her own perspective. The soccer game she was never supposed to be at, the weather delay and the realization that love at first sight is most definitely a thing when she looks back on meeting Tobin in the middle of that downpour.

She's shy when she talks of their first date and their first kiss on that same night and when she hints at intimacy a few dates down the line, she blushes fiercely when Tobin raises a flirty eyebrow and winks saucily enough to make it funny. Christen swiftly switches topics, because funny as it may be, she will never be able to resist Tobin's charm.

Christen could write a book about their lives together, she realizes, even if they've only been together for three short years. She recounts many memorable dates, then meeting the parents - on both sides - and finally opens the photo album in her lap to show Tobin pictures of daytrips and vacations, holidays and other family get-togethers. It doesn't jog a single memory - something both Christen and Tobin had secretly hoped for - but it feels good to talk about the time they've spent together.

Christen weaves a compelling tale and Tobin hangs on her lips, hoping she'll remember it all very soon. She wants to be the person from those stories. She wants the memories of their first date and their first kiss and of the way she tumbled down the steps of the Press residence on her first visit because of an overeager Morena and her need to collect cuddles from Christen before Khaleesi. She wants to know about their first fight and making up and she wants to know if waking up together for the first time in the same bed was really as magical as Christen describes it to be. She wants it back, the life she shares with Christen, because it sounds like the best damn thing ever and it kills her to have lost it. She'll say her prayers tonight and in them she'll ask God to grant her reprieve from these hellish circumstances. She'll ask him to let her remember being loved by a woman He's surely carved with His own two hands for Tobin specifically. She will get her life back. She has faith.

When Christen stops talking, a prolonged silence follows. She's caught between two realities - then and now - and it takes a few moments for her to drift back to earth. She looks exhausted and entirely too emotional to be asked anymore questions that Tobin should know the answers to. She knows enough for now. She knows she's loved - fiercely and unconditionally - by a woman who refuses to give up on her and Tobin promises to herself, to Christen and to God up above, that she'll fight just as hard to be the woman Christen deserves, whether she'll get her memories back or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have more time on my hands the next few weeks, so I hope to find more words to add to this story.


	8. This is not an update!

Hi, just a quick note to let you know I'm taking a little time off. I'll be back, though. I promise!


End file.
